Martial effusions of ancient times; addressed to the Spartan hosts, to excite them to valour and discipline, in their conflicts with the Messenians, and prescribed as permanent recitations, by the republic of Lacedemon, to inspire their youth with warlike sentiments

w

MARTIAL EFFUSIONS

OF ANCIENT TIMES ;

ADDRESSED TO

THE SPARTAN HOSTS,

TO EXCITE THEM TO VALOUR AND DISCIPLINE,
IN TIIEIK CONFLICTS WITH

THE MESSENIANS:

AND PRESCRIBED AS

PERMANENT RECITATIONS,

BY

THE REPUBLIC OF LJCEDEMON,

TO INSFIRE THEIR YOUTH WITH
WARLIKE SENTIMENTS.

FROM THE FRAGMENTS OF

TYRT^US.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR J. HATCHARD,

(Bookseller to Her Majesty),
NO. 190, OPPOSITE ALBANY HOUSE, PICCADILLY.

1804.

Brettell, Printer,
Marshall Street, Golden S<ju.uc,

MARTIAL BANDS

OF THE

BR1TOJVS,

ARMED, AND ARMING, TO DEFEND,

®n British CrotmB,

THE HONOUR, THE LIBERTY, THE LAWS,

THE HEARTHS, AXD THE ALTARS,

01' I'll E

BRITISH EMPIRE,

THESE

MA II Tl A L E FFV SI O X S

ARE INSCRIBED,

WITH ARDENT WISHES FOR

SAFETY, SUCCESS, AND GLORY,

BY

THE TRANSLATOR.

'

><35<

THE originals of the following Trans-
lations and Imitations, are preserved in the
Collections of Stobaeus, and the Oration of
Lycurgus against Leocrates. The second of
them is, by some critics, attributed to Cal-
linus. The others are universally ascribed to

TYRT-EUS.

Tyrtjeus was, by binh, an Athenian.
He was sent by his own State, in conse-
quence of an oracular injunction, to assist
the Spartans in retrieving the defeats and
disasters, which they had experienced, in their
wars with their rivals, the Messenians.

Tyut.t.us

VI

Tyrtjeus was a Poet, as well as a Soldier.
In liis adopted country, lie had occasion
for the exercise of the talents appropriate
to both characters. His efforts were crowned
with success. By his military instructions
he improved the discipline and tactics, and
hy his Martial Effusions, he revived the
drooping spirits of the Spartans. After many
fierce conflicts, of critical and alternate issue,
in some of which the Invaders and Invaded
changed situations and perils, the contest
terminated finally in favour of Sparta.

The following Poems are not offered to the
public asstricttranslations of the Martial Frag-
ments of Tyrtjeus. It is the general spirit of
the Poet, that is meant to be conveyed in
them, together with the appropriate character
of his Sentiments. The glow of " love to
" our country — the glory of dying in its
" defence — the praise and honours of va-
lour

VII

" lour — the joys and rewards of Victory" — the
degradation and misery of Cowardice and
Defeat — These, and similar sentiments and
views are the most prominent in the original ;
and, in conveying them, the Translator has not
confined himself to the exact arrangement
in which they there stand, nor to the precise
aspect in which they there appear, nor to the
motives under which they are recommended
and pressed. Views, also, analogous and
parallel have been sometimes brought for-
ward ; and some thoughts will be found
introduced, which arc not touched, in the
original, at all. They are, however, kindred
thoughts; and bearing on the same elevated
object at which the ancient Poet points.

Of the licence now acknowledged, more
will be found in some parts of the Poems, than
in others. The greatest degree of it is in
those numbered II. and IV. These the Trans-
lator

VIII

slator has ventured entirely to new-cast. As
they now appear, they have a sort of Lyrical
air, and hear some resemblance to original
Ballads, composed in our own style. If they
may be thought such asTvRTJEUs might have
written, the Translator will plead guilty to the
charges of licence and interpolation, and
patiently await their punishment.

Several Translations of the Martial Frag-
ments of Tyrtjeus have, at different periods,
been presented to the English reader. None
of them had come under the eye of the
present Translator, when, a few months ago,
in the discharge of his professional func-
tions, he was led to compose those now
offered to the public. Even, at present, the
only one he has seen is the very elegant one
of the Poet Laureat, published in 1796; and
that he did not see till the present translation
was in the press. Will he be believed, if he

IX

say, that, had he been previously acquainted
with Mr. Pye's Translation, he would have
hesitated about the publication of his own ?
Mr. Polwhele's Translation, respectfully re-
ferred to by Mr. Pye, and which lie has not
yet seen, would probably have encreased this
hesitation.

The originals of these fragments, extracted
from the collections of Stobreus, have been
frequently edited, and, in some cases, with
laboured Commentaries and Illustrations.
In the year 1769, they were printed at the
Glasgow press, by the Messrs. Foulis, under
the inspection of the learned Doctor James
Moor, then Greek Professor in that University,
who prefaced his edition with an account of
the Poet, and subjoined to it some critical
notes. It was published with the following
remarkably appropriate inscription :

" These

X

u These remains of ancient panegyric on Mar.
" tial spirit, and Personal Valour, of old,
" the daily lessons of the Spartan Youth,
" are, with propriety, inscribed to the
" Young Gentlemen, lately bred at the
" University of Glasgow, at present
" serving their country, as Officers of the
" Highland Battalions now in Ame-

" RICA."

The similarity of circumstances now, and
in 1759> suggested to the present Translatur
the propriety of a similar inscription : an
inscription, however, of much more extensive
appropriation, from the more critical aspect
of the times — the greater magnitude of the
stake— and the encreased range of military pre-
paration. In superstitious moments, when the
mind is pressed by tlie doubtful issue of great
efforts, it gathers np circumstances, on which
it builds, as matter of augury, in such a
moment, the Translator hailed the auspicious

issues

issues of the efforts of the Defenders of their
Country's rights in H5{), as happy omens of
the issues of the more momentous efforts of
their present Defenders. The former were
covered with glory : the latter will be co-
vered, also. They know that they struggle
for a great stake.'. They struggle under the
eye of many witnesses. The Persons of the
Living — the Spirits of the Dead are around
them. Both bring inspiration. The living
eye beams encouragement : that of the valiant
of other times shoots light through the shades
of Death. Is this illusion? No.

Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield,
Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell'd field,

And gaze with fix'd delight.
Again, for Britain's wrongs they feel %
Again they snatch the gleamy steel,

And wish th' avenging fight.

COLLINS,

MARTIAL EFFUSIONS.

— »**,WiV^*«

I

11 e'er shall my verse record his vulgar name,
Whose powers the Stadium and Palaestra bound ;
Vast though his might, Cyclopean though his frame,
Fleeter than Boreas though he sweep the ground.

r»

Fresh were his bloom, as did Tithonus grace,
Greater his wealth than Midas e'er could tell,
High were his birth, as Pclops' royal race,
Sweeter his tones than from Adrastus fell,—

R

3
Though every gift should every glory bring,

If valour not his swelling breast inspire,

No lay of mine his useless gifts shall sing ;

7. ays only wak'd by valour's holy fire !

4

'- And who may claim the meed the Muse bestows r"

Whom Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield ;
Whose heart pants high with hostile bands to close;
vVlio eyes, with front serene, the ensanguin'd field.

5
Such Hero well the Muse's wreath may claim ;

Sweet wreath to bind the youthful Warrior's brow,

Whose patriot Virtue guards a nation's fame,

Whose patriot arm has crovvn'd a nation's vow !

6

lie — he may claim the meed the Muse bestows ;

Him Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield ;
High pants his heart with hostile bands to close !
With front bcrene he eyes the ensanguin'd field !

3

7
See him spring forth to meet the embattled Foe ;

Dare his approach, his thrcat'ning spear defy !

Shoots through his eye his heart's enkindled glow,

Inspiring kindred flames, which teach to die !

S
The ranks recoil before his onward spear ;

Elate, he breasts the Battle's purple flood :

Back roll the surges ; with them, ah ! they bear

The Hero, whelm'd in seas of hostile blood.

9

Far from his fallows born, he sinks opprest,
}li.s helm and buckler hack'd with many a wound ;
Darts close on darts transfix his manly breast;
No gash ignoble on his back is found.

10

Saved by his death of Glory — saved and free,
A grateful People high his trophies raise ;
His deeds emblazon in the proud Decree,
Av.i teach the infant tongue to lisp his praise.

11

Revering multitudes attend his bier ;

In accents sad, the youth, the aged, mourns;

Yet Triumph glistens through the grief-sprung tear,

And Pride and Sorrow swell the heart by turns.

12

To Heaven uprear'd the votive columns rise,

Which consecrate to Time his sainted name.
Dear arc his children in their country's eyes ;
And children's children's children heir his fame.

13

While sinks his body, wrapt in shades of Night,

Up to the Realms of Light his Spirit hies ;

Far o'er Earth's ken he wings his glorious flight.

To meet the kindred Spirits of the skies.

14

I>ut — should he, safe, survive the noble strife,

Should Valour shield him in the dread affray,
What dazzling glories light his path of l.fe !
What softened radiance gilds his sotting day !

15

Respect and Love attend his growing years ;

Maintain his rights ; his sacred person shield.
High seated shines he 'midst his yielding Peers,
In council first, as foremost in the field.

16

He — he may claim the meed the Muse bestows :
Him Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield;
High pants his heart with hostile bands to close,
With front serene he eyes the ensanguin'd field.

II.

1

Spartan Heroes, martial Band.
Armed to save the Spartan lar.J,
When, from bed of soft Repose,
Will yon spring to meet her Foes ?

o
Mark you not the scowling eye
Of nations round you ? Hark! they en
" Spartans, are you dead to Fame ?
" Spartans, are you lost to Shame?

3
Halcyon Peace has fled the ground ;

Hosts embattled gather round ;

Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! —

Strangers threat the Spartan soil '

4

Away with Ease, away with Fear;

Brace the helmet, couch the spear ;
Poise the dart ; and, firm, advance,
'Neath the buckler's ample fence.

5

On to Battle; on to Fame ;

On to gain a Patriot name :
On to death, if die you must;

But — GIVE THE FOE A PARTING THRUST.

6

O! how comely 'tis to fight
For all that yields the heart delight ,
Country's freedom — Children's life —
Aged Parent— spotless Wife.

7
And, O ! what honours deck his grave,

Who dies those pledges dear to save.

The stream tbat flows, when Virtue calif,

Hallows the turf on which it falls.

8

8
Spartan Heroes, martial Band,

Champions of the Spartan land ;

Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! —

bt rangers trkad the Spartan soil.

Away to Battle ; on to Fame ;
On to gain a Patriot name :
On to death, if die you must ;

Yet— GIVE THE FOE A PARTING THRUST.
10

Heaven has doom'd that all must fall,
When the Fatal Sisters call :
The peasant tribe — the Royal line —
The Hero sprung from stock divine !

11
But now he falls ; and whither hies ;

To dark the night, or light the skies :

To that the Hero bends his care ;

To that the Hero points his prayer '

9

12

The Coward, pale at War's alarms,

W ho hurries far from din of arms,
In Battle 'scapes a Hero's death,
On couch supine to yield his breath !

13
Darkness shades his grov'ling doom ;

No brilliant trophies grace his tomb:

No weeping Country mourns his fall !

Oblivion sweeps him from the ball!

14

But, who, his Native land to save,

In Battle courts the Hero's grave,

On each Life-Drop, that stains his biej, *

His Country drops a precious tear !

15

Falling so, he falls in Glory ;

He rises great in Spartan story ;
Martial legends saint his name ;
And give his deeds to deathless Fame !

10

16

The votive urn preserves his dust;
With Gods and Heroes stands his Bust ;
Himself a God ; himself a Band ;
The Fortress proud that joys the land I

17
Spartan Heroes, martial Band,

Champions of the Spartan land,

Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! —

Strangers CLAIM the Spartan toil!

18
Then, on to meet those Aliens bold,
Whose feet profane your sacred mold ; —
//"Sparta's soil they needs must have,
Give them, each, a Spartan grave !

19
Then, on to Battle ; on to Fame ;

On to gain a Patriot name :

On to death, if die you must;

And — REACH THE FOE A PARTING THRUST !

u

III.

Ty here is the progeny of great Alcides,
Lnconquered erst, as he, from whom they sprung ?
Why fades the colour on their manly cheeks,
When marshall'd for the fight ? rouse, Spartans, rouse f
The fav'ring eye of Jove yet beams upon you.

What, tho* your Foes advance, a furious Host
Of countless thousands ; let not that unnerve
Your steady arm ; but, boldly, march right on
To meet them. To their front each Hero press ;
His buckler's fence opposed full to their spears.
No mean ignoble lust of future days
Lurk in your hearts; but, be the shades of Death
Welcome alike with Life's bright cheering ray !

12

No strangers to your souls, or to your arm,
Arc martial struggles, and th' alternate issues
Those struggles bring. Oft' in backward rout,
The Foe has fled before you. Time has been
You, too, have yielded; but, when Spartans yield,
They yield but to return with double ardour
To the fierce Fight. — Yet better Honour saved,
Than, even with matchless Gallantry, redeemed !

Does Danger shake you ? Ponder, Spartans, well
The fate of Warriors firm, that stand compact,
Wedged in close column, each to each a bulwark,
And theirs, who stray dispersed, or skulk behind.
Fewer, by far, the bold in Battle fall,
Than fall the terror-struck who fly from Glory !
And, oh ! what tongue can speak the foul disgrace,
The many thousand ills, of every colour,
That fix on him, who with a Coward's name,.
Among the Erave, is branded ! Oh! the horror,
When on the soldier's back, as, panick-driven,

He flics, by the pursuing blade imprinted,

Streaming is seen the sad inglorious wound !

Oh, sight of Shame, to see his haggard carcase

Rot on the plain, transfix 'd with darts behind !

Ah! gallant race of Jove's all-gallant son,

Recoil with horror from a taint so foul !

Ne'er be your Front erect, your light'ning Eye,

Averted seen from the advancing Foe !

With either foot fast rivetted to earth,

Take your firm stand. With fierce and threat'ning mien,

Close o'er your limbs, and thighs, and breast, and

shoulders,
Bring your protecting buckler's ample round.
On high uplifted poise each man his dart :
Nod awful on his helm his shining crest :
Let his own gallant Feats new prompt his Valour,
Begetting each his equal. Nevef, in the rear,
With buckler on his arm, and spear in hand,
Let Spartan soldier seek ignoble shelter ;
But, pressing to the front, close with his man ;

H

Thrusting him through with firm protended spear,
Or hewing him to earth with his stout falchion.

'Ware, Spartans, how you scatter in the conflict.
In close compact battalion stand united ;
Foot pressing foot, and helmet touching helm,
Buckler in4>uckler lock'd, shoulder to shoulder.
Let all your waving plumes nod close as one.

Ye, too, ye lighter squadrons, take jour stand,
Where best your efforts may assist the Phalanx ;
Not mixing with the close embattled line,
Nor from it distant far. Fenced by his shield,
Each, as each may, strive to annoy the Foe.
Discharge, full on him, showers of massy stones ;
Or scatter on his flank your well aim'd darts.
Thus, each assisting each, all strength'ning all,
In common cause exerting common might,
Secure the glorious issue of the day ;
Fair Sparta's Freedom, and fair Sparta's Fame !

15

IV.

]D)eath, when Time or Chance may call,
Is Nature's stern award to all :
Death, their Native land to save,
Is Nature's Bounty to the Bra<vc.

2
The Battle's Front is Honour's post ;

There to fight is Valour's boast :

There to die ; if nought remain

But Death to ward the servile chain !

3

For who would fly the gallant strife,

To drag a cheerless Wand'rer's life ?
Of Country, Hearth, and Honour reft,
And nought but breath and sorrow left !

16

4
A Father's age, a Mother's fear,
The Infant's cry, the Spouse's tear,
And pinching Want, and dark Dismay,
Companions of his dreary way !

5

To Aliens does he vent his woe ?

The boon is scant, the hand is slow.
Protecting roof he seeks in vain,
Who bears Dishonour in his train.

6

His Form so fair, his Birth so high,

His Eye elate, that met the sky,

The stamp of his depression borrow ;

The shrink of Shame, the shade of Sorrow !

7
His Spirit sunk, his Manhood gone,

Aimless he roams an outcast lone :

His path Regard and Pity fly ;

And Scorn and Misery bid him die I

17

8
Death, when Time or Chance may call,
Is Nature's stern award to all :
Death, their Native land to save,
Is Nature's Bounty to the Bra<ve.

9
Then, Spartans, rush on Sparta's foes;

With Sparta's fierce Invaders close:

Spartans die, if nought remain

But Death, to ward the servile chain!

10
Life to human kind is sweet,
When Life and holy Freedom meet ;
When they part, the Charm is fled,
To sweeten Death in Honour's bed.

11

Then spare not toil, then spare not Life,

In the peril-braving strife;

And, see the Young, in front, maintain

First conflict on the hostile plain.

18

12

For ohJ the dire Disgr ice to find

The youthful Warrior left behind ;
And, when the Danger gathers nigh,
First to fear, and first to fly.

13

And oh ! the sight of Shame, to see
With dubious arm, with tott'ring knee,
Deserted stand the man of Age,
To meet, in front, the Battle's rage.

14

To see him fall, to see him slain,
To see him gasping on the plain ;
His silver Beard, his Temples hoar,
With dust besmeard, distained with gore !

15

His shrivell'd Form, outstretch'd and bare,
To bloat the Earth, and taint the Air;
His Members marr'd with wanton maim,
In Nature's spire, to Manhood's shame!

19

When, mangled thus, the Aged lie
In Horror, turns th' averted Eye ;
The wounds that lusty Youth betide,
Are Beauty's grace, and Valour's pride.

17

The Friend that praised the Form so rare,

Exulting sees that form more fair ;
The gentle Maid, that lov'd before,
Admires, and weeps, and loves vet more,

IS
Death, when Time or Chance may call,

Is Nature's stern award to all ;

Death, their Native land to save,

Is Nature's Bounty to the Breve,

19

Then, Spartans, rush on Spartan foes ;

Fierce with her fierce invaders close :
Spartans, die, if nought remain
But Death to ward the servile chain.